What Reading The Haunting of Hill House Taught Me About Art and Social Media

I have been thinking a lot lately about how I want to show up in the world. If you’re anything like me, you’re frustrated with the state of online discourse. The Internet is no longer the useful tool for forming communities around common interests that it once was. Instead, it’s dominated by predatory entities that steal time and sap energy. They claim to be social, but there’s nothing social about a middleman who decides when and if you’re allowed to talk to family, friends and the people who chose to follow you. Some call that middleman the algorithm. Others call it social media. I call it Hill House.

For those who have not yet read Shirley Jackson’s novel, The Haunting of Hill House, here’s what you need to know to understand the metaphor: Everything about Hill House is distorted though its individual features appear to be normal at first glance. The stairway seems level, but it is slightly slanted. The walls and doorways look true, but they are a degree or two off. These minor imperfections add up, making the place difficult to navigate. Doors close unless they are held open and sight lines are not what they seem. Rooms that should be visible from a particular vantage point are completely hidden. Hill House’s architecture messes with its visitors’ minds and it may even have one of its own:

“’It watches,’ [the doctor] added suddenly. ‘The house. It watches every move you make.’ And then, ‘My own imagination, of course.’”

- The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, Part III, Chapter 5

Where we put our work says a lot about how we would like our audience to interpret and interact with it. It’s a bit of an understatement to say Hill House is not the best place to show art. I can’t help but wonder whether the marble statue the four characters found in the drawing room was really “grotesque” or if it was simply in the wrong place to be properly appreciated. Based on the description, it could have been a stunning Neoclassical sculpture. I doubt the too-small room, floral carpet and mauve-striped wallpaper were doing it any favors. Anything beautiful would have seemed as woefully out of place in that house as a work of fine art would seem in a feed full of ads, ragebait and memes.

In private chatrooms and discussions, a few writers and artists I deeply respect have said they no longer use social media to look for inspiration and new artists to follow. It’s hard to blame them. When I think of my favorite stories and works of art, every one of them explored new ideas, challenged conventions or came from a deeply personal place. All of those require a kind of vulnerability that social media platforms disincentivize by rewarding bad behavior and cruelty. Call me crazy, but I want every person who is kind enough to look at my art to have a good experience. I don’t want to send them to a place that seeks to hijack their attention. I don’t want them to feel pressured to scroll past at the speed of short form content.

We become like the people with whom we spend the most time. I joined Substack hoping to find my people. I want to spend time with dreamers and explorers. I am looking for others who wish to test ideas, develop their craft, and build communities around shared interests. If you believe the early promises of the Internet are still possible and want to live in a world where social media is a tool that connects us rather than a trap that destroys us, I am looking for you.

Let’s build a better world!